Define a Breakdown
by parallelpandora
Summary: Post Untethered. GorenOC. Goren’s frantic search for Donnie causes his sanity to be questioned, but this time by the closest person to him. BA friendship .
1. Frantic

Detective Eames trudged through the moonlit alleyway, passing cardboard boxes filled with vagrants, to the patrol car lit up at the other end. It was two o'clock in the morning. She had been rudely awakened half an hour ago by a call from one of her friends at the 2-7, letting her know her partner had been found in a dishevelled state exchanging money with street kids. They had thought he was trying to buy drugs until he told them he was a Detective at Major Case, and showed them his ID.

She went up to the open rear door of the patrol car to find Goren sitting there staring at his hands. He was pale and shivering, dressed in just some sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He knew she was there, but he wasn't going to look at her, he didn't know what to say. He knew it looked bad.

Eames frowned, and sighed in frustration. She looked up at the beat cop leaning against the bonnet.

"Thanks for the call, I'll take it from here."

She leaned onto the car by the back door, and bent her head down so Goren had no choice but to look at her. He looked up sheepishly and rubbed his neck.

"I, uh… was looking for Donnie…"

She nodded. "My car's down the block, come on. Watch your head." She helped him out of the car and nodded to the two Uniforms. They nodded and hopped back in the patrol car, speeding off.

When they got back to her SUV, Eames blasted the heat on the AC, trying to warm Goren up. They didn't talk on the way to his apartment – he leant his head back against the headrest and pretended to sleep, she looked over at him every now and then, concern etched across her face.

"We're here." Eames tapped Goren on the shoulder as she turned the engine off. He yawned and nodded, without looking at her, and slowly got out of the car, following her up the stoop of his apartment building.

They ascended in the elevator, standing a couple of feet apart and both looking markedly uncomfortable. Eames couldn't take it anymore. She hit the stop button and turned to stare at him. Goren sank back into the far corner of the elevator, as if he could get away from her.

"What the fuck, Bobby? What the hell were you doing down there, talking to drug dealers in the middle of the night? You could've been killed, you could've frozen to death, you weren't even wearing a jacket," she burst out.

Goren hesitated, then raised his gaze to meet her stare.

"I'm a cop, Eames. I knew what I was doing. I, uh, I was trying to get information about Donnie. Money talks, you know. When I ran out of cash, I traded my jacket."

Eames sighed and nodded. She hit the stop button again and folded her arms against her chest. The elevator dinged and Eames stormed out, waiting impatiently at Goren's door while he gingerly walked up and fumbled with his keys, before finding the right one. He walked into the dark apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights. Eames flicked the switch as she followed him, her breath catching as she caught the sight of his kitchen.

It had been a few days since Goren was suspended by the Chief of Ds for the Tates fiasco, and she could see from the state of his apartment he hadn't spent any time there other than to eat and throw on some clothes. Smelly pizza boxes littered his dining table and dirty clothes were strewn across his living room.

She heard him crashing about in his bedroom, and proceeded to throw a few of the pizza boxes into the large trash can whilst she waited. Goren reappeared in the kitchen a few seconds later, this time dressed in a pair of old acid wash jeans, a thick checked shirt and a large padded parka. He ignored Eames, and walked straight to one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out a wad of twenty dollar bills, stuffing them into the pocket of his jacket.

Eames stood back and stared at him, cocking her head to the side, in a very Goren-like manner. He looked up at her, and shrugged, not appearing to care what she thought.

"Going somewhere?" she asked bluntly, moving over by the door, blocking it.

"I have to look for Donnie, he's off his meds, he could hurt himself," said Goren, his voice raised and anxious. He moved towards the door, and Eames shifted herself into his path. He backed off for a second, rubbing his temples.

"He's not the only one. Bobby, you're not sleeping, you're not thinking clearly," said Eames. "You need to stay here. You're no good to Donnie if you get killed out there."

"Don't tell me I'm not thinking clearly, Eames! Donnie is my nephew! Do you have any idea what I went through for him?!" Goren leaned in at her, using his large frame to try to intimidate her. "Get out of my way," he snarled, uncharacteristically.

Eames clenched her jaw and stood as tall as she could. "No."

His face like stone, Goren turned his back on her, his hands running through his hair. Alex didn't see it at first, he turned back on her so fast. The gun. This was the first time she had ever really felt scared of her partner, she could barely believe it was happening. He had a gun on her. He had pulled it from under his parka. He was aiming that gun squarely between her eyes.

"Get out of my way, now!" he screamed, his hands shaking as he held the gun on her.

Eames put up her hands, backing up quickly towards the door. She wrenched her gaze away from the barrel of the semi-automatic and stared directly into his desperation-filled eyes. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"Look at yourself, Bobby. Are you going to shoot me? Me, your partner. The one person who has stood by you through everything? Me, really?" she said shakily.

It took what seemed like minutes for Goren to react to what she said. A look of shame and pure anguish washed over his face as he realized what he was doing. He shifted the gun away from her head slowly, backing off. He laid the gun gently on the newly cleared table before choking back an "I'm sorry" and leaning against the back wall of the kitchen. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

Eames looked away and took a few more deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She then moved silently to the table and unloaded the clip of the gun, putting the clip in her pocket and poking the gun in the back of her pants. Goren had sunk down the wall, his head in his hands.

"Go and have a shower, Bobby. You stink. I'll make some coffee and we can talk," she said, not looking directly at him, her voice emotionless.

Goren nodded and slowly got up, and resisted the urge to run into the bathroom. He calmly walked in and locked the door behind him. He walked over the basin and splashed some cold water on his face. He rested his hands on the basin as he searched his reflection in the mirror – he didn't recognize the face that looked back at him. It was aged and exhausted. What was happening to him?

He stood in the shower for what must have been a really long time. He didn't know how long. He just didn't want to go out and face what he'd done. Face what he'd done to her, his partner. His partner. He had just pulled a gun on his partner. Maybe he really was losing it.

He put his clothes back on, minus the bulky parka, and was still towel drying his salt'n'pepa curly hair as he walked out of the bathroom. Then he saw them. Eames was sitting at his kitchen table, fiddling with a napkin, refusing to look at him. A tired Captain Ross stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Two paramedics with full kits were standing next to Ross, and two Uniforms were standing in front of his apartment door.


	2. Commitment

Thanks for the really great reviews, this is my first fanfic so I was a little nervous. The one thing I found hard to portray is Goren's jitteryness, his sometimes awkward movements, but I think if you really imagine Vincent D really playing it that way it really makes sense in terms of Goren's character. Please R & R, and enjoy!

* * *

Goren knew what this was, he knew he should have expected it. He took a few steps back towards the living room, and could feel himself start to panic. They were going to lock him away. Lock him away like he locked away his mother. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of a way to get himself out of this.

"Whats going on?" he said nervously, shrugging his shoulders as though he had no idea why they were there. Ross took a small step forward, in front of the paramedics and the Uniforms. It was a bit of a tight squeeze in Goren's small kitchen.

"Eames?" said Goren, looking at her, and only at her. Eames still refused to look up, and began to bite her nails intensely instead of answering him. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights and was looking quickly from person to person, really starting to panic.

Ross cleared his throat. "Your partner called us, Detective Goren. We do understand you are under a lot of stress, and think that it will be best for you to… to go somewhere where you can… get help with that."

"Go where? Where do you think I should go?! Huh?" Goren's voice exploded in rage. "I don't need to be locked up, I need to keep looking for my nephew!"

"Detective… this isn't a request. You are going to Bellevue Psych on a 72 hour hold."

"No! You can't do this to me! I'm not going anywhere! There's nothing wrong with me!" Goren yelled, throwing a small pot plant on the bench next to him at his living room wall, dirt and terracotta shattering over his couch.

"Stop it!"

Everyone turned to look at Eames, now standing, tears streaks evident on her cheeks. "Just stop it, Bobby," she said quietly, this time looking him squarely in the face. He backed away into the far wall, his hand on his mouth and arms tucked tightly into his body. He looked at Eames, his eyes pleading for her not to let them do this.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes and walked over to him, barely leaving an inch between them. Goren looked down at her, his hand still covering his mouth.

"Please, Bobby. Just go with them. Please. It'll be a chance for you to get some sleep, get some perspective, and be safe. Please, Bobby. Please," she said, her hands reaching up to hold his. "Do this for me. I need to know you're safe."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking. He opened them slowly and nodded at her, composing himself. He nodded his head again, and squeezed her hands. "Okay, okay. Okay."

The Uniforms moved forward but Ross waived his hand at them. "No cuffs. We won't need them, will we Detective?"

Goren shook his head. Eames could feel him shaking. He was scared. "I'll go with you," she said, motioning towards the door. He nodded again, and followed the Uniforms and Paramedics out the door, his head down and hands in his pockets, Eames and Ross taking up the rear. Ross flicked off the lights before locking the apartment door.

Eames sat with Goren in the back of the ambulance, but he wouldn't look at her, or say anything more. Instead he just lay on the gurney, closed his eyes, and shut down in defeat. The Uniform's patrol car tailed the ambulance closely and Ross' car wasn't far behind. The paramedic in the back of the ambulance gave up trying to ask Goren questions and took his blood pressure instead. He started an IV of saline as his patient appeared to be dehydrated and exhausted. It wouldn't do much, but it couldn't hurt either.

The ambulance pulled into Bellevue not much later, just with lights, no sirens. They transferred Goren to a wheelchair without any protest or acknowledgement and wheeled him up to Psych. Ross appeared a few minutes later and disappeared into a nearby office. A tall, slender dark haired woman with glasses followed him out. She went straight up to Goren and reached out her hand, smiling. Goren, never one to really be rude, reached out and shook it, if somewhat unenthusiastically.

"Detective Goren, I'm Dr. Carolyn Mendez, your Captain called me in. You'll be seeing me a lot over the next couple of days while you're here. What's say we get you out of that chair and into a private room?"

Eames eyed her suspiciously. She sounded patronizing. Goren didn't do patronizing. Dr Mendez must have picked up on Eames' distaste – she then seemed to notice his partner and smiled at her, holding out her hand. "You must be Detective Eames." Eames nodded and shook her hand quickly before folding her arms across her chest. Dr Mendez understood that Eames was very protective of Goren.

Dr Mendez nodded to the nurse in the heavily protected nursing station, and the security door to the Psych ward was buzzed open. Dr Mendez walked through it and motioned Goren to follow her. Goren obeyed, rising from the wheelchair and pulling the IV pole along behind him. Eames went to follow but Dr Mendez held up her hand. "Sorry Detective Eames, no visitors for the full 72 hours." Eames frowned and backed up from the door, as it swung closed with a bang, locking itself automatically. Eames looked through the protective glass at Goren, who looked back at her with small forced smile as he walked behind Dr Mendez up the white, overlit corridor.

* * *

TBC...


	3. White

Thanks again for the reviews! Thanks especially to _**nikkiesplace **_- your review was really flattering and it inspired me to post this little tidbit while I continue on the next chapter, "Evaluate Me" where Goren has to open up a bit. Again, please R & R, and if you have suggestions/ideas for coming chapters, I'm all ears! Until next time... enjoy :)

* * *

Goren wasn't a stranger to these kinds of corridors – he had walked up and down enough of them throughout each of his mother's hospitalisations. But he had never been a patient before. He followed Dr Mendez to the end of the corridor, dragging along his IV, until she motioned him to enter a room on the right.

The room was very… white. White bed, white walls, white metal grills over the windows – all that was missing was white padding. There was a plastic looking window looking through to the corridor and a closed circuit camera in the corner. The room was void of any homely touches – no flowers, no colour, no artwork on the walls. Goren could never understand these rooms – it was an observation room for patients on suicide watch that was so void of anything he could almost understand why people felt like killing themselves. He closed his eyes for a moment… he didn't need to be in there.

Dr Mendez came up in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling up at him. His eyes flickered around the room, never meeting her stare. "What's say we get you into bed, huh? You can have a good night's sleep tonight and we'll talk tomorrow morning when I'm in for my rounds." She didn't bother asking for him to get changed – he just lay straight down on the bed, on his side, his face expressionless. She pulled a syringe out of her pocket and bent over him.

"I'm just going to give you a little something to help you sleep. Is that okay?" she said softly. His eyes closed, Goren nodded. Sleep was all he wanted to do right now. Dr Mendez unhooked the Goren from the IV and injected the strong sedative directly into the port still in his hand. He didn't flinch, just lay there, hoping she would leave him alone soon. Dr Mendez removed the port carefully, fixing a band-aid over the spot, and wheeled the IV pole out of the room, locking the door softly behind her.

* * *

TBC...


	4. Common

**Author's Note: The next chapter was going to be "Evaluate Me" but I really wanted Goren to have the opportunity to be the one to talk first, if even just for a little bit. It is also a chance for him to reflect for himself how he has ended up in this situation before he has to talk to Dr. Mendez, because we all know he's smart enough to analyze his own demons (and the demons of others of course...)**

* * *

Robert Goren opened his eyes slowly, squinting in the bright morning rays streaming through the caged windows. His head pounded from the effects of the sedative that Dr Mendez had given him the night before, but he had savored the deep, dreamless sleep it had allowed him to drift into.

He was still curled up in the position he had taken when he first arrived, so his muscles were sore and stiff. He lifted his head slowly, still squirming and blinking, adjusting to the harsh light. He could hear incoherent chatter in the hallway.

Getting up awkwardly off of the rigid hospital bed, he suddenly noticed a face plastered up against the plastic window looking at him. A young man stood on the other side, his nose pressed against the panel like a pig, his eyes open wide, his mouth flapping and chattering away.

Goren's curiosity with human behavior took over and he walked slowly up to the window, cocking his head to the side, staring back at the young man. He lost himself in thought for a moment and then suddenly plastered his face up on the window too.

The young man jumped back as if frightened, then burst into hysterical laughter as he ran off down the hall. Goren watched him through the plastic, bemused. He then walked over to the door, and sighed when he turned the handle and pulled yet the door remained still. He ran his hand through his hair and paced back and forth for a few seconds, before walking over and pressing the assistance button next to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, arms folded, whilst he waited for a nurse, an orderly, somebody… to come and let him out.

He didn't have to wait long. A blond male nurse, as tall as himself, walked up to the door, peering quickly through the window before deciding it was safe to unlock it. Goren supposed they had been checking on him throughout the night, making sure he hadn't slammed his head against a wall or slit his wrists with a broken light bulb.

Goren didn't get up straight away, he let the nurse open the door wide and enter.

"Robert? Ah, you're up." the nurse said with a patronizing inflection of non-existent familiarity.

Goren nodded indifferently, rising off of the bed as he did so.

"Did you want to come and have some breakfast in the common room?" asked the nurse. "Uh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I do that sometimes – meet so many new people ya know? I'm Bradford, one of the morning shift nurses here. Dr Mendez is on her rounds and will come see you soon, but there's still a bit of a wait. Um, so you uh, want breakfast?"

Goren nodded again; his arms were still folded, his lips were still pursed, and he was still looking uncomfortably around the room, his eyes ignoring the nurse. Bradford half smiled at him and cocked his head harshly backward, motioning Goren to follow him, which he did.

The common room… well it wasn't white. It was gray, puke green and dirty yellow all mixed into a dreary, depressive landscape. Old couches, old linoleum, old paint. A pungent urine-esque perfume offended Goren's sensitive sense of smell. He wrinkled his nose – he had visited too many of these places in his lifetime. He had never seen any that he thought might have a positive effect on the disturbed psyches wandering their lengths.

He took the closest seat at the long narrow table, his head immediately resting on his hand, and looked at the person sitting next to him. A young, olive-skinned girl was slumped back in her chair, her face hidden by her unkempt chestnut dreadlocks. She was fiddling with the drawstrings of her hooded sweater, her hands awkward and fidgety. She kept pulling at each string, jerking it back and forth. Goren stared at her with interest.

"Hey."

She didn't look up.

"Hey," he said again, moving his head forward towards her as he said it.

She stopped fidgeting for a moment. "Hey," she said, without looking up. She then went back to fiddling with the strings.

Goren looked around the rest of the table quickly and then looked back at her, watching her hands with curiosity. He couldn't help it. His interest was piqued – it always was when he met personalities that didn't quite meet society's interpretation of normal.

"What medium do you use?" he asked out of the blue.

She stopped fiddling with her strings again. She raised her head just slightly, peeking at him, so he could see her big brown eyes before she dropped them back down again. "Do you know me? I don't know you," she said. She paused for a second. "Oils, I use oils." Goren nodded, still looking at her in his sideways stare, his head still resting on hand, his elbow propped up on the table.

"How did you know that? Do you know me?"

Goren shook his head. "No. No, I don't know you."

She looked up at him again, and looked away, and then finally met his eyes, curious.

"Your hands. The way you're fiddling with, um, your sweater," he said, gesturing at them. "You're moving the drawstrings like a brush. You're an artist."

"And you're a doctor. I don't like doctors," she dismissed, hiding her hands in her pockets. Goren half-laughed, and shook his head.

"No, I'm not a doctor."

"You sound like a doctor."

"Do I look like one?" he said, thinking of his five o'clock shadow, his acid wash jeans and untucked shirt.

She looked at him again, quickly. "Not really. But you don't sound like a patient."

"Thanks, but at the moment I guess I am one."

A box of cereal, some milk and bowls and spoons were placed on the table in front of them. Some of the people at the table lunged at them noisily.

"Play nicely children," said a female nurse sternly.

Goren waited patiently for the others to finish getting their breakfast before he pulled over two bowls and filled them with muesli and milk. He pushed one over in front of the girl, and she shifted forwards in her chair looking at him from behind her dreadlocks.

"Thanks," she said, picking up the spoon and starting to eat.

Goren nodded, and ate a spoonful of cereal. When he finished, he turned back to her.

"What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

"Bobby."

"I'm Evie."

"Hi Evie."

She looked at him, and leaned forward onto the table, pulling her sweater tight around her.

"You sure you're not a doctor? I don't like doctors. Are you trying to trick me?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

He shook his head. "I'm not a doctor. I promise. I'm a detective, a cop."

"I don't like cops much either – they put me in here."

"Me too," he admitted, eating another spoonful of cereal.

"But if you're a cop, why would they?" she asked. "That doesn't make any sense."

He nodded. "They, um, my partner… worried about me I guess."

"Oh… so whadya got?"

"What've I got?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I think I'm just a little, uh… messed up right now."

"We're all a little fucked up here. So don't you want to know why I'm here?"

He leaned forward. "Only if you want to tell me," he said softly. He meant it.

"I, um… wasn't taking my meds, I don't like taking them. I can't paint when I take them. The bring me down."

"Bipolar disorder?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"See, now that's why I think you're a doctor. How did you know that?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"You said they bring you down. You're an artist; you probably, um, exude ideas when you're manic. A lot of creative people with Bipolar disorder don't like taking their meds."

"I guess you have to know a lot about a lot to be a detective."

"Yeah, something like that."

"I got low, pretty low, the cops found me, brought me here. Bobby, can you keep a secret?" she said, leaning close to him.

He nodded. She leant in towards his ear. "I'm taking the meds because they're making me, but the minute I'm outta here man they're going down the drain. I got stuff to do." She sat back, arms folded across her chest and smiled at him proudly. He just nodded, looking at her, his hand over his mouth. This is what scared him so much about Donnie. He was out there somewhere, on the run, and could be at either the highest high or the lowest low – at either extreme, he was a real danger to himself.

"So what did you do?"

"Hmmm?" Goren answered, lost in his train of thought.

"What did you do? You said your partner locked you up. What, did you punch him or something?" she asked.

"I, um, pulled a gun on _her_. I lost it. I just lost it, I guess," he said, rubbing his temples.

"So? You weren't going to shoot her were you?"

He closed his eyes. "I'd like to think that I wouldn't, but these days... these days, who knows?"

Bradford appeared from the hallway, tapping Goren on the shoulder. "Dr Mendez would like to see you now, Robert." Goren nodded, and nodded goodbye to Evie.

Bradford turned to Evie. "Time for your meds, Evie. Madeline's ready for you." He pointed at the nurses station. Evie smiled knowingly at Goren and looked at him whilst replying to Bradford. "Yes, sir, I'll be a good little girl and take my meds. I love my meds." She flashed Goren a small smile before turning for the nurses station where Madeline, the meds nurse, stood at the door with a little white cup.

Goren watched her sadly, and then walked slowly back towards the white room.

* * *

Until next time peoples... Next chapter "_Evaluate Me_" - I promise, k?


	5. Evaluate Me

Goren followed Bradford down another hallway to a tiny office at the other end. Inside, Dr Mendez was sitting behind a small hardwood desk, typing up some last minute clinical notes. She looked up when the shadows of the two very tall men fell onto her desktop.

"Robert. Have a seat. I take it you had a restful sleep?" she said, looking back at her computer but motioning towards the hard plastic chair in front of him with her hand.

Goren sat down, resting his arm on the bookcase next to the chair, tapping the wood with his fingers.

"It was.. uh.. fine. Considering.. I suppose.." he said, not really sure how to start. He was used to asking the questions. He didn't like it when the table (or in this case, the desk) was turned.

She finished with the file she was working on and with one final tap on the keyboard turned around in her chair to face him, crossing her legs and eyeing him over her glasses. She half smiled at him and then took a deep breath.

"Robert… I want you to tell me in your own words why you came to be here. What happened, why it happened, what you were and are thinking about…" she said gently.

He nodded and looked up, trying to find the right words. At first he couldn't he just sort of shrugged and then ran his hand down his face, trying to gather his thoughts.

"I um… I guess I… I um, pulled my gun on my partner. I just lost it. I just want to tell her how sorry I am… I don't know. My captain… he, uh, I think he, I mean he already thought I was crazy... My partner, Eames, she was just scared for me," he closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. "Scared of me, I guess. They thought the best place for me to go right now was here."

"Is that what you think?"

He shrugged. "Does anyone want to get locked up in a psych ward?"

"No, generally not, but sometimes they have to be for their own safety. I'm sure you of all people understand that," said Dr Mendez. He flinched at the last part, and she noticed.

"Yes, I am aware of your family history – I went through all of that with your Captain. I'm also aware you are one of NYPD's most successful interrogators – your use of profiling and psychological techniques seem to very… profound."

He cocked his head in a sideways glance at her, interested in her impression of him, but said nothing in reaction.

She went on. "As you would be aware, there is a strong genetic link for mental illness within some families. You are more susceptible to Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder, it is true…but it is my understanding that you have not displayed any real psychotic pathology before or after your outburst last night. According to Captain Ross, some of your colleagues seem to consider you eccentric… crazy, if you will… but he admitted your conviction rate based on confessions alone far outnumbered that of any detective he had ever worked with and that you _are_ an extremely vital part of his team."

Goren raised his eyebrows. "That's um… yeah." He still really didn't know what to say and Ross' comments, particularly about him being a "vital" part of the team almost shocked him. He had always gotten the impression Ross really had no time for him or his methods.

"Robert, I'm sure with your work, your family… you probably have read just as many Psych textbooks as I have. I want to know what your opinion is, of your behaviour… your pathology. If you had to evaluate yourself, your mental state as it is right now, what would you say?" she asked, leaning forward onto the desk.

Goren sighed a little and rubbed at his eyes. "Uh… I don't know."

She crossed her arms on the desk, resting on her elbows, and smiled at him kindly, almost a little playfully. "Think of yourself as one of your, uh, suspects. Come on… Just take a step back and have a look at what has lead to this moment."

He put rested his left elbow on his knee and leaned his cheek into his hand. "Okay, okay." He closed his eyes for a second. "I guess I've been feeling down, disconnected for awhile. A lot of things have happened in the last couple of years, things that I haven't coped with, dealt with as well as I should have been able to. I swing from being apathetic about my life to being frustrated, angry. Last night… I just wanted to find my nephew, my family…. and she, uh…. she, uh… wouldn't let me leave, so I um… I just couldn't think… my mind was racing and she just wouldn't move and I didn't even realize the gun was in my hand until it was already pointing at her head. I would never want to hurt Eames… but my nephew, he's my family… but then so is she…" he trailed off, realizing that he was rambling, which was something he usually didn't do about himself.

She didn't want to respond yet to anything he had said, but was jotting down the main points as he had been talking. She nodded, she wanted him to keep going, keep opening up – she was pretty certain it wasn't something he did often.

"Do you think you have Schizoprenia or Bipolar disorder? Do you see or hear things that aren't there, do you cycle between bouts of mania and depression?" she prompted.

He shook his head. "I don't hear voices. I don't see things that aren't there. I don't have really high highs and really low lows… at least I don't think I do."

"Have you ever thought about eating your gun?" asked Dr Mendez, not looking up from her notepad.

Goren was taken aback by the directness of her question and looked up at her. She met his eyes, undeterred, expecting an honest answer.

"Not, um… not seriously," he said in a flat voice after a moment of hesitation.

"What does that mean? You thought about eating your gun in a non-serious kind of way?" she said. "When have you thought about blowing your brains out in a non-serious kind of way?"

"After my mother died… I guess I thought about it. But I could never do that. I could never do that to Alex…. It was after the funeral, after everything was over. But I could never do that," he said, getting a little distressed.

"Who's Alex?" she asked.

"Eames. Eames is Alex, Alex is Eames."

"Your partner. At work. You said she's your family – are you close?" she asked.

"She's the only person I trust. She's been there for me through everything. She's just great you know. And what I did to her…" he put his head in his hands.

"Robert, I understand you want to beat yourself up over last night. But I met your partner, remember? She only wanted to protect you, I got the impression she sure didn't trust me to take care of you. She wouldn't have gotten you help, come with you, stayed by your side in the ambulance, if she was never going to forgive you or had no understanding of what you're going through or why you did what you did. I need you to get past what you did last night so we can work through everything – last night was just a symptom. It was a climax of everything that has been building up emotionally and physically inside of you for the last couple of years, and you just need to be thankful that that was your rock bottom – I'm sure you've seen people end up doing worse things, as have I."

He nodded, knowing she was right, but knowing that the guilt wouldn't escape him that easily. He needed to talk to Eames, apologise to her, see the forgiveness in her eyes, and see the trust in her eyes once again.

It was almost the end of their session – Dr Mendez didn't get as much time to evaluate her patients as she would like, especially the 72 hour holds. She leaned back in her chair, turning the pen between her fingers.

"So, what does Robert Goren do for fun? What do you do when you're not solving crimes and catching criminals?" she asked.

"I read," he shrugged. "But I don't get a lot of time, we work a lot. Most weekends."

"What do you read?"

"Mostly non-fiction. Psychology, criminology, history… I uh.. I also read novels – crime novels, classics… I have a lot of books. I don't get to read as much as I would like to."

"So… let me get this straight. You're a cop, a detective, who investigates crimes using psychological techniques and your idea of fun is reading about crimes and the psychology behind them? That's not fun, Robert – that's work. Do you do anything frivolous, just to relax and get away from work? Watch reality TV, go to nightclubs, surf the net to look at porn?" she asked, completely deadpan on the last part.

He actually laughed, he was amused by the way she had phrased that little monologue. "No, I guess I don't – I hadn't really thought of it that way. In reference to the examples, I don't really watch TV, I'm too old for nightclubs and I don't have a computer at home. But maybe if I did…"

This time she laughed. "What about your love life? Do you have a girlfriend? When was the last time you went on an actual date?"

"I'm single. I can't remember the last time I was on a date. It was a while ago, I guess. I just really don't have the time with the job or the energy. I don't think it would be a good idea to get into a relationship right now."

"You may be right about that Robert, now might not be the best time, but hopefully we can change that, if you're willing. It's almost the end of the session, so I'll cut to the chase. You have an extremely high-pressured and stressful job that takes a lot out of you; you really don't spend a lot of time winding down or debriefing from that. You've been through a lot with your family; not only are you dealing with the aftermath of your mother's death and the toll of her long-term illness, but also the issues with your brother and nephew. You've got a lot on your plate, and I think that your lack of sleep and high levels of anxiety have contributed to your frustration and ultimately a loss of control like you displayed last night. You take so much on your shoulders, Robert, it was bound to push you under at some point. I don't think you're "crazy"… obviously we have a few more sessions before you leave but I think it's safe to say at this stage I don't think you are suffering from any major psychological disorder. I do however, think you would benefit from some short-term medication to help relieve some anxiety and depression and then we can discuss arranging some therapy, some counselling. What do you think?" she asked, smiling at him warmly.

"I think… I think you're probably right."

"Good, I'll write you a prescription and we'll start you on the meds tomorrow. It will be a relatively low dose, so you won't have to worry too much about side effects," she said handing him an information pamphlet on the drug she wanted him to take. "Read that, any questions, don't hesitate to ask. We'll have another session tomorrow morning; we can talk some more then. Your partner dropped off your suitcase a while ago; it has some fresh clothes for you to change into – you can take a shower down the hall whenever you like, just ask Bradford. We'll move you to a different room tonight, I don't believe you are still a danger to yourself."

"Thanks," said Goren, nodding. He got up from the chair and turned to leave. She cleared her throat and he turned his head back to look at her.

"Oh, and Robert, I think we had a good session today. I have no doubt that we can get you through this," she said, smiling at him reassuringly.

He nodded. "Call me Bobby."


	6. Facing Up

Goren tapped his fingers on the table and turned his awkwardly to look at the old plastic clock high on the wall behind him. She should be here by now, why wasn't she here? He was petrified she wasn't going to turn up, that she couldn't even face him.

He had slept better that night, in an unlocked room with a more comfortable bed. They had given him some oral sedatives to help him sleep and he had taken his first dose of meds that morning, lining up with the other patients by the nurses station. He had also had another session with Dr Mendez earlier, and had discussed directions and things he could actually do to start coping with everything and getting more of a balance in life.

Goren knew that he wasn't supposed to see anyone or even speak to anyone on the phone while he was in for the hold, but that didn't stop him from asking the staff, including Dr Mendez several times if he could see his partner. He was met with a firm negative the first few times he asked but then in his very persuasive but gentle way he got Dr Mendez to agree that he could meet with Eames in the family room if she was willing. She could see that it was very important to him and that he needed to face her. She was actually quite impressed, because most people would try to avoid facing up to the people they have wronged for as long as possible.

Bradford had called Eames and she had agreed to come straight away to meet with Goren. He didn't really say why Goren needed to see her, which worried her, because that shrink had made it quite clear he wasn't supposed to have visitors while he was there.

Goren didn't notice her at first. She stood quietly in the doorway, watching him as he fidgeted at the table, wringing his hands and tapping his foot. Eames took a few steps forward.

"Bobby?"

Goren jumped a little as he turned on the seat to face her.

"Hi….um, thanks for coming," he said as he lifted his tall frame up of the chair awkwardly. He didn't look her in the eyes at first, and gestured to the seat opposite him. She sat down, and drew her leather coat around her, staring at him, pursing her lips. She didn't know what to say.

Goren leant on the table, his left hand covering his mouth and looked down his nose at her finally. He met her eyes for a few seconds, thinking about what he had done to her. Eames could see his eyes glisten with unshed tears. She knew he would be hating himself right now. He looked away, and was about to say something, when Eames suddenly leant forward across the table and grabbed his right hand with both of hers.

"It's okay, Bobby." said Eames, her voice charged with concern.

He closed his eyes for a moment then placed his left hand over hers. He looked at her with anguish.

"No, no, it's not okay. What I did to you…. You have to know how sorry I am… I… don't know…. Things have been really…um… confusing lately and I lost it. I am so, so sorry, Alex. You have to know that you would be the last person I would ever want to hurt," said Goren. He looked out at the barred window as he tried to get a hold over his emotions.

"Bobby," said Eames firmly, wanting him to look at her. Goren cocked his head and looked back at her. "I know you are sorry for what you did, I know if you were thinking clearly you wouldn't have done it. I forgive you," she said forcefully. Goren closed his eyes and nodded.

They sat there for a few silent seconds, not saying anything.

"But can you forgive me?" asked Eames, suddenly.

Goren looked up at her quickly with a confused expression. "Forgive you for what?"

"I… um.. had you locked up… I'm your partner… I could've found a different way to handle it Bobby – I mean, this isn't good for your suspension…. your career…" she pulled her hands away as she trailed off, leaning onto the table and rubbing her temples.

This time he reached out and grabbed her hands.

"It's okay, Eames. You did the right thing. I was out of control - I know that. My career… I was the one who messed that up, we'll just have to see what happens. I've had a bit of time to think in here you know and I just… I'm just grateful that you still cared enough to want me safe. I wouldn't have blamed you… I wouldn't blame you now if you just wanted to walk away," he said, shaking his head a little.

Eames smiled sadly at him. "I couldn't walk away from you even if I wanted to, Bobby."

He looked back at her with understanding and squeezed her hands, cocking his head to the side again. He knew he didn't deserve her friendship or her trust, but he was going to do everything he could to earn it back.


End file.
